


Close Enough

by parma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hate Sex, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parma/pseuds/parma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for tumblr user derek-tion/howlnatural's hatesex prompt: "for a ship that was built on angry sexual tension, there aren’t very many fics with hatesex</p><p>where are the fics where they’re literally glowering at each other from across the room and then five minutes later they’re going at it in a closet.</p><p>Where’s the hate-filled snark “I’ve literally never met such an emotionally stunted asshole in my life” “Doesn’t seem to matter much because your dick sure seems to think I’m a swell guy”</p><p>Where’s the hickies-for-revenge.</p><p>Where’s the heavy-hint-dropping in front of everyone else that they’ll have to pay for later.</p><p>Where’s the making each other jealous just because possessive!sex is 10x hotter</p><p>Where’s the pushing each other’s buttons for a reaction. “Haven’t seen you in a while” *rips shirt open* “Yeah well I decided that sleeping with perfect strangers - or my own hand - was better than looking at the smug grin on your face” *opens belt* “Please. Half the turn-on for you is my colour commentary. Put your hand on my dick, I haven’t got all week.”</p><p>GIVE ME HATE SEX WITH UNEXPECTED FEELS</p><p>GIVE ME 1000 FICS OF IT RIGHT NOW."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek stood against the colonnade in the hallway, right outside the annual charity ball of something or other (unremembered, for these details were immaterial,) shrouded in shadows cast by the lamps in the courtyard.

Young Lord Stilinski came sauntering out from a doorway, hailing him with a nod and a head tilt down the hallway.

Derek walked along with him, scowling to himself.

"You've been staring all night at me."

Lord Stilinski looked unconcerned when Derek glanced at him, and after several steps, could only be bothered to nod in agreement.

Derek felt the unreasoning fury rising from below his gut again, prompting him to strike the boy, to make him see reason.

"Were you looking at me spoiling for a fight?"

"Ha!" The young lord's shoulders rose and fell in mirth, his teeth glinting in the night dark. "And how'd you know anyway? You were looking at me all night too, weren't you?" he crowed, smug little grin on his stupid little face.

Derek grimaces to himself because fuck that shit. Also he should probably work on his opening gambit for the next time stupid things like these happened.

"No."

"Ha! Your face always looks like the gum-riddled bottom of a shoe when you're lying," Stiles--Stilinski, dammit--outright laughed, hand to his stomach as he stopped and gasped for breath.

"Stop saying 'ha!' it's annoying and un-lordly," Derek grit out, feet stopping short uncertainly.

Stiles looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes and Derek found his breath stop short, too. "I'm not in the business of pleasing the likes of you, mister," Stiles shot back, finger aimed right at his chest.

"And you, sir," he continued, " are a dirty, little, liar," punctuated with a series of little jabs at Derek.

That was it. Enough.

Derek grabbed Stilinski's stupid fucking cravat and pulled him in closer.

Closer.

His mouth was pursing slightly, cheeks high with color and freckles, one two three fifteen across that upturned maddening nose.

Closer.

His big fucking doe eyes were widening, those ridiculous eyelashes framing steadily darkening pupils.

"You are entirely too mouthy," he breathed, "for your own good."

Then he was close enough to bite said mouth, right on those pink lisping lips until he had them sufficiently wet. Then he was close enough to lick inside said mouth, to better explore just how utterly cavernous it was, rich in--in space, too wide, wide enough to--fuck--

and his hands were running down that stupid jaw, ripping off the ruined cravat and pulling the collar apart to grip his neck, the better to lick it and bite, ah, so lovely, such a delicate flavor bursting on his tongue--

and he moaned, and how absolutely hateful to feel it reverberate within his own chest, against his very ribs, to feel it rising through his throat, to catch savor it on his own tongue as it came out, how exquisitely disgusting--

and suddenly he was on his knees and ripping his trouser placket open and licking at his cock through his breeches and he couldn't keep himself from grabbing that head and pulling down his pants and just shoving the whole thing into that mouth, that mouth--

so hot, and his eyes were wet with tears unshed, but he was going to make him cry so sweetly on his cock, oh, lovely, the heat of him inside so damned hot, too hot to be friendly, angry heat devouring him and oh god that was teeth--

and his face, covered in pearlescent drops of cum that shone in the darkness was just fantastic. Served him right for unsheathing teeth, the little bastard. Fucker.


	2. To Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teeth. By Jupiter that two-faced bastard was lying through those teeth of his.

"Well certainly the party is quite enjoyable, yes?" Miss Martin smirked, tilting her head to the right.

Derek lurked, listening to the conversation just behind a large potted plant, pretending to be quite engaged in scowling at a pastry.

"Of course, Miss Martin," Stiles--Stilinski, dammit--replied, one eye on the Lord and Lady Martin approaching.

"Quite hot, though, is it not?" Miss Martin continued, fanning herself languidly with a feathery monstrosity. Derek rolled his eyes at that. Hadn't _those_ gone out of fashion two seasons ago?

Stile--tilinski flustered a bit, the flush slowly spreading from his cheeks to his neck. His lovely, exposed neck, cravat fallen apart and just barely catching onto the very bottom of his throat right where the collarbones could be seen peeking out--"It gets hotter when the party increases their vivacity, yes."

Miss Martin concealed a laugh behind her fan, though her laugh seemed somewhat contrived as she cajoled, leaning dangerously forward, "Dancing, you mean?"

The young lord licked his lips at that. Huh. Derek looked closer. He might have missed a drop of ejaculate there, on the lower lip. Derek steeled himself and burst into the conversation.

"If I may?"

"Pardon?" Stilinski asked, startled, those wide doe-eyes blinking at him--

"We were discussing something earlier and S--Lord Stilinski has--" Derek stuttered out helplessly, quite overcome when thankfully the Martins finally made their way through the crush in the middle of the hall.

"Lydia! There you are, I wanted to introduce you to the Lord Hale--"

"Oh, yes, Lady Martin, we've already met. Scintillating conversation," Derek snapped out, and then quickly grabbed Stiles by the elbow. "Excuse us."

Lady Martin blinked in astonishment, "But we just got here--"

"Thank you!" Stiles offered as he was dragged away.

Derek huffed and tugged at him impatiently. "Come on, then."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Out," Derek grit through his teeth as he peered into the gardens for a suitably dark enough corner.

"Again?" Stiles protested, though he did just walk ahead into the darkness as he continued. "Look, I just blew you outside and your come hasn't even dried yet, what do you want now?"

"There was a drop on your lip," Derek smirked, licking it off from under Stiles' bottom lip.

"Oh," Stiles breathed out.

Derek pushed him into a bush with his hips. "Yes."

"How did you know? You left it on me, didn't you? You sick bastard," Stiles breathed out.

"You were about to lick it off in front of Miss Martin."

"...You were looking at me again, weren't you?"

"Because you're too idiotic for your own good," Derek replied, tugging at confounded buttons and ill-begotten collars as Stiles just stood there wondering.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"See, I told you you were too idiotic for your own good," and finally Derek succeeded in pulling Stiles' trousers and underpants off by virtue of ripping them from his legs.

"What...ow. That's undeserved destruction of property from you, Hale, and I will have you know that those were _especially_ tailor--mmph."

"This is what you _deserve_ , you mouthy--"

"Ugh," Stiles moaned, as his nips were lavished upon by Derek's sharp teeth.

"--little--"

"Hey, that's my--"yes, navel, Derek knew that"--fuck." And he scratched his nails down the lordling's back, down and down and down..."Oh, shit, yes."

"I just touch you and you melt against the shrubbery."

"Don't touch me with your filthy hands--there," Stiles gasped.

"Where? Here?" and Derek touched a fingertip to his ass, just a bit, just a little...

"--stupid fingers--ngahh--"

"Yeah, take that. Mouthy little hole."

"Ungh--"

"You want that?" And his finger slid inside, just a little more, as another stealthy fingertip went in alongside.

"Oh fuck. No--more--"

"More?"Derek licked his fingers, three at a time, then slipped them one, two three in as Stiles gasped out.

"No!"

"No?"

"Your fingers're...filthy, I don't...know...where've--mff--been--"

"Just for that you should...fuck. It's so hot inside you, filthy...shit."

"Yeah? You want that?" And Stiles, that little slutty liar, went down so easily on all fours. "Come get it, you fucker."

Derek started slipping off the buttons on his placket and knelt, his dick aching under the thick cloth. Then his dick was jumping eagerly against the soft roundness of Stilinski's ass, leaking some wet right onto his back.

"Lean forward a bit, babe."

"Fucker." But he still did lean, and that little hole winked at him rhythmically, pulsing with eagerness.

He groaned and fell to his knees, giving it a kiss.

"Augh. That's--wha?"

Derek licked out at the little hole, trying to get his tongue in as deep as it would go.

"Fuck!"

"Mmm."

"Don't--stop--" Stiles groaned, as Derek rumbled against his hole before sitting up and leaning in closer.

"You feel that?" he asked, his dick rubbing a hot line against Stiles' asscrack.

"Oh, God."

"Yes, just like that," he panted as the tip of his dick was swallowed by that greedy little hole. Fuck, but it was hot and sloppy, his knees gave out a bit and he sunk in incrementally. That was the head of his cock just through, slowly being squeezed inside incrementally.

Stiles was reduced to heaving breaths, his back a crude arch and his knees spreading ever so slightly wider apart with each exhale.

"I wish I could see your face right now."

"Let me--" Derek spit down on his shaft, slicking it on and around a bit. Fuck. He could hardly stand it, stand this sweltering---fuck. Just a bit, fuck. He sank his length in a little more.

"Derek?"

"Mnh."

"Take that," Stiles grunted as he sank back onto the rest of Derek's dick, ass burrowing into his hips.

"I'll kiss you for that," he growled, snatching at an ear, then a jaw, and pulling back fiercely.

"Oh, fuck, don't--" And they more or less slobbered into each other's mouths, and Stiles just pushed back and forth onto Derek's dick, "--don't stop--"

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's just a fuckton of confusion basically. And I researched wiki for cravats which were so fetch in late 18th to early 19th c. England? Apparently? Yeah. I don't think there's an Enlightenment Period tag here so i just said "historical inaccuracy" and left it at that. I'm really bad at temporal situationing. Okay apparently that wasn't a word after all. Haha.


End file.
